Chapter 46.
The morning after the storm was unnervingly bright. The air was scrubbed clean, the sky a piercing, heartless blue that mocked the wreckage of the night before. Briar had made it home just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, her skin still humming from the friction of Victor’s hands and her hair smelling of rain and the heavy, expensive scent of a man she was losing by the second. Twenty-nine days. Now, as evening approached, Briar stood in front of her bedroom mirror, staring at the person looking back. She looked the same- the same blonde hair tucked behind her ears, the same soft curve of her jaw, but everything felt fractured. In the closet behind her, the gold silk dress Victor had bought her sat in its garment bag, a shimmering, hidden piece of evidence that could burn he
- Writer
